


Tipping point

by gealach



Category: All New Wolverine, Dark Wolverine (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Child Murder, Mild Language, breach of medical records, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-19 00:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gealach/pseuds/gealach
Summary: After Sarah Kinney’s funeral, Daken decides to make amends. Some things cannot be fixed, but he will at least try.Set afterAll New Wolverine#30.





	Tipping point

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by a couple of panels in _All New Wolverine_ #29. Before being killed by Gorgon, an old man who we later discover to have been a Hand lieutenant asks Amber Griffen to tell Daken his name and that of his daughter before killing him. That piqued my interest, but unfortunately Taylor never elaborated on it. So I decided to fill in the blanks my own way.

After the whole fiasco, she and Henry had gone home.

It would take a lot of time to come to terms with all that had transpired. She’d seen a part of Henry that she hadn’t known existed, a part that scared her – all of them Orphans wore wounds, some deeper than others, and she knew they’d all turned vicious. All of them had done unspeakable things, thinking it justified by those murderers’ deeds; but Henry had gone beyond that. He’d lied and manipulated them all, and while she could understand why he’d done so, Amber couldn’t help but feeling betrayed.

But beneath that, of course, lay the worry. She was worried about him, and she’d do anything to mend the pieces he’s shattered into. She’d stand beside him, because that was what she’d decided, and she loved him.

They’d survive this, together.

Henry was paralyzed with grief and rage, and he’d often work himself to a state. And Amber was always there with him, trying her best to quench his pain.

She thought she had time; they all did. None of them expected Laura Kinney to deliver quickly.

Which was why she _wasn’t_ ready when, one quiet afternoon, she heard that knock on their door. She thought nothing of it, and left Henry on the couch; she left her gun in the living room, and simply went to open the door.

And she was faced with Daken Akihiro.

Her breath hitched, her hand going for a weapon she knew she didn’t carry. She’d have to dive, but oh, she’d never make it in time, and she had to warn Henry, because the man must have come to avenge himself, now that he was off Laura Kinney’s leash –

“Breathe, Ms. Griffen.” He said it so matter-of-factly that she almost believed he wasn’t there to kill them. But he must be, surely?

He was rotten. Now, Laura Kinney she could believe on the path to redemption, but she’d never believe it of him. He was beyond that. She’d briefly thought it, when he’d asked for Sarah Kinney’s corpse on behalf of Laura Kinney, whom he called _sister_ ; but that only went to show how even murderers had people they cared about. Nothing more, nothing less, and she knew this: the man in front of her was dangerous, a predator, and Kinney’s decision to let bygones be bygones couldn’t possibly sit well with him.

After all, if nothing else, they had tortured him for three days straight. He must want retribution.

“Henry!” she managed to shout, and she heard the click of her gun in return. She didn’t dare to turn, knowing she had to focus on the man in front of her – but he hadn’t moved an inch, if one didn’t count his raised eyebrow.

“Quite the welcoming party,” he said, and then he raised his hands in the universal gesture for surrender. “Put that down, child.” He was talking to Henry, but he kept his gaze firmly on Amber. “You’ll only hurt yourself. I’m not here to harm you.”

Henry scoffed.

“I could have killed the both of you quite easily already,” Daken Akihiro said slowly, as if talking to children – and she supposed that, to him, they _were_. “So do me a favor and put that gun down. I believe you don’t want to alert your neighbors. Unlike Laura, I _would_ fight back.” His eyes darkened. Whether he was shutting down his thirst for blood or remembering Kinney being shot again and again by Henry, Amber didn’t know.

The implication was disquieting, but it was true. If he’d wanted to, they’d have been corpses by now; she knew it, and Henry knew it too, because there was silence from him. He must have lowered the gun, because Daken Akihiro nodded.

“Good. Now, may I come in?”

It was a strange tableau that followed. They all sat rigidly in their living room; Amber had found some semblance of manners and had offered the murderer the tea they were drinking when he’d showed up, so now Daken Akihiro was sitting on their couch and sipping from a mug that said “I am not really listening but please continue”, and it was all sorts of domestic and wrong. It gave him a layer of normalcy that was disquieting – this wolf in sheep’s clothes, showing up on their doorstep wearing simple pants and a shirt and somehow managing to make it look like designer clothes. They’d seen him naked and covered in blood, opened by a number of wounds; they’d seen him bear torture without insomuch as a whimper.

He must know – well, perhaps he suspected – that they’d seen him like that; that all the Orphans of X had watched him getting tortured. And here he sat, quietly sipping their tea, surely aware of the effect he made by simply being there, yet seemingly engrossed in the beverage.

If his presence wasn’t due to bloody vengeance, what was his purpose for the visit? She exchanged a glance with Henry. This couldn’t be about their agreement with Kinney; the woman would have called before insinuating herself in their life and making them shit themselves and simultaneously simmer with the anger they’d always feel, no matter how much Kinney delivered on her promise. So what did he want?

Eventually, Daken Akihiro put the mug down. Then he looked up at her, with those startlingly bright blue eyes. She hated how her spine straightened up on its own. “Before you killed me,” he hesitated, “you said two names.”

She blinked. She had, in fact; after all, she’d promised. “Yes?”

“What do you know about them?” He leaned back against the couch.

This was why he’d come here? To investigate on the last words he’d heard before dying? Perhaps he didn’t even _remember_ those names. That fueled her with fire; she was seething on her old friend’s behalf.

“Wu Biming was one of us,” she hissed. He merely cocked his head, as if to say ‘ _Obviously_.’ Henry grabbed her hand and squeezed. She took a deep breath. “Wu Ju was his daughter. Whom you _killed_. She was only three! Do you even –”

“Yes, I do remember them.” His voice was like ice and she struggled to contain her ire. He was a child murderer, and he was in their living room, and she was angering him.

She wondered what the hell did Kinney see in him, to think he could be reformed.

“Then what do you want?” Henry said. He seemed to be controlling himself better; after all, this wasn’t his personal monster in front of him. It wasn’t Amber’s either, but she remembered all too well the tears streaking Biming’s cheeks as he recalled coming to his daughter room only to find her gone, the only memento of her the blood sprayed on the walls.

“Is he dead?” the murderous beast said. “I doubt he’d have given up the opportunity to kill me.”

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “He died during the attack at Muramasa’s.” Daken Akihiro nodded. “You’re happy now? Have we satisfied your curiosity?”

“No.” Daken Akihiro looked lazily around. As if they were no threat at all. Well, they weren’t. “Why their names? With how you went about it all, I’d have expected a litany of names. Perhaps something more ritualistic – oh, but maybe you were all chanting those names somewhere as you watched me getting tortured.” There was a hint of dark amusement in his voice. As if he was trying to make them see that they weren’t so different, after all; that the Orphans had done horrible things too.

She felt Henry stiffen. “We decided that only one person could pull the trigger. For each one of you, there was one who’d been wronged the most. Of all the crimes you’d committed against us, that was the most heinous. So it should have been him to kill you, but he died before that.” He didn’t say that he’d been the one elected to kill Kinney, but that must have been clear. Amber squeezed his hand.

“I see,” Daken Akihiro said quietly. He seemed almost subdued, but that must be a trick of the light.

She couldn’t believe regret possible of him.

The monster looked back at her. “You cared about him. Wu Biming.” It wasn’t a question.

“He was a sweet old man.” She sniffed. “He was a _good_ man, and you did a horrible thing.”

“He was of the Hand, wasn’t he?” Daken Akihiro held up his palm as if weighing something, daring her to contradict him. “Hardly good. But I see your point.” He nodded to himself, again with that almost subdued look. “He was in need of being reminded to know his place, and it was decided to kill his daughter. I did that.” He delivered that line as if he were talking about the weather. Again, Amber felt herself seethe.

“How do you even sleep at night?” She almost laughed out loud at the idiocy of her question. He was an assassin for hire. He killed people for a living.

“You wouldn’t want to know.” For a moment, he looked… old. Certainly as old as their intel had said he was, and not how he normally looked. It startled her, somehow, and she wasn’t able to come up with a retort.

Daken Akihiro stood up and studied her. Being the subject of such a man’s scrutiny was just as disquieting as she’d thought it would be. There was warmth in Kinney’s eyes, even as she was being shot; there was none in his. Amber wondered what it would be like, to be faced with those cold eyes and know it was one’s last moments on Earth; she wondered if Wu Ju had had the time to see those eyes. “You’ll do.”

She was startled out of her thoughts. “What?”

Beside her, Henry vibrated with worry.

“You had a connection,” Daken Akihiro said matter-of-factly. “You can help lay him to rest.”

This time, she did laugh out loud, at the ridiculousness of it all. “What, you want to make amends?” she said derisively. “You think anything you do would make up for what you did to that poor girl?”

He seemed to be making an effort not to snap at her; he was visibly tightly coiled. He was tall, statuesque, and cold, but there was an energy there, simmering beneath his controlled demeanor. “My reasons are my own,” he said, his voice clipped. “As for you, you feel bound to him. Indebted, perhaps? Regardless, I can show you where she is. And I think he’d have wanted to know that.”

It was like being electrocuted. Of course Biming would have wanted to know. And he was dead, so he couldn’t, but she’d known him and this – they’d all thought only revenge could possibly lay them to rest. But their revenge had backfired and Kinney had promised them retribution – something that now Biming could never have. Those who’d paid for the hit couldn’t possibly still be alive. He’d remain lacking, his soul unsatisfied, and if this could truly lay him to rest…

“Why should we trust you?” Henry asked.

Daken Akihiro tipped his head in his direction. “You shouldn’t. By all means, call Laura. That should assuage your fears that I’m going to brutally murder you on a trip.”

That wouldn’t assuage anything: Amber didn’t know – she couldn’t possibly begin to fathom – what did Kinney see in him. _How_ could she believe in anything he said.

But she also saw – perhaps by the way he was still so wrapped up in himself; perhaps by the way his gaze shifted – that calling Kinney would break the spell. For whatever reason he was here – whatever he told himself – he was set on doing this thing… “laying” his victim's father “to rest”. And Kinney’s presence would hinder that. And Amber couldn’t – she couldn’t allow him to run away like a coward.

“You’re going to leave if we do that, aren’t you?” she asked simply. The man looked positively ruffled. After a moment, he seemed to concede.

“She’d want me to go about it in a different way,” he said slowly. “But this is my way. The way I think is right.”

“You think showing me where you buried Wu Ju is going to make a difference?” she asked, genuinely curious. She could tell he cared – in a strange, murderous way. Like a serial killer having second thoughts. It made her shudder.

Was this what Kinney saw? What made her think he was worth the trouble?

His eyes flashed. “Yes.”

It made her wonder. She wanted to see what Kinney saw. She wanted to believe in the world she promised, and she could only do that if she saw the change with her own eyes. If she saw something shining through. Some light amongst all the blood.

So – despite her better judgement, despite Henry’s frantic questioning – she agreed.

 

* * *

 

She had to admit that she didn’t expect New York, of all places.

The flight had been uneventful. Truth be told, they hadn’t talked at all; what could she possibly have in common with the likes of him?

Aside from torture and murder.

But that didn’t count. It was different; they’d done it to monsters. To people who’d made so many suffer so much. Nothing the monsters did to pay the Orphans back would ever make them different. They were murderers, all of them. Kinney might have been a victim of the system, but not the others.

Whatever they decided to do to make amends – it didn’t change who they were. What they’d done.

Terrible, unspeakable things.

Even if they now regret it all – they’d still done it. Could there even be a way for them to be forgiven? _Should_ there be? At what point did one declare their debts paid? What was the tipping point? The moment a blood-thirsty monster looked behind and saw things he didn’t want to see, that made him decide to try and make amends?

She supposed that child murder could be it.

The man sitting beside her on the plane and calmly reading a thick book in some language she didn’t know, the man walking beside her through New York’s busy streets as if he owned the place – that man was a predator. That man had done terrible things. That man thought that what he was doing was enough, when it was too little, and too late. Did he even know that? Did he care?

Maybe a little. She knew this wasn’t for anyone’s benefit but his. At least that; he wasn’t trying to impress anyone, save perhaps the Orphans. This wasn’t a grand gesture, but a quiet thing. Crumbs to appease his own troubled soul, perhaps.

They’d been walking for a while when he finally stopped and sat on a bench, taking her by surprise. She’d expected a cemetery, some memorial – a place of significance where he might have remorsefully buried a kid. It was horrible enough that he’d had apparently flown from China with a corpse in his luggage to bury her in America; but there was nothing to bury someone in, here.

She stood amongst skyscrapers, and there wasn’t a green area in sight.

Amber recoiled. “Where?” she asked. She almost didn’t want to know, but she must.

“There.” Daken Akihiro pointed behind her and she turned. It was one of the skyscrapers. She felt the need to retch, but she held on, too worked up to give in to the nausea.

“You dumped her in a _construction site_.” She couldn’t keep the disgust and horror out of her voice. She didn’t even care who he was, what he could do to her – she was livid. If she’d have had a gun with her, she’d have fired at him in front of all these people, and consequences be damned.

“No.” His voice took on that monotone he’d used already once at her house. And with that voice, as if he was recounting nothing of importance, he turned her upside down, left her reeling and incredulous, panting for air as she stared at him. “I dumped her in a bag, and I told her to keep quiet, and I brought her to an orphanage in Shanghai. This is just where she had a business meeting today. She’s going to leave for home later this evening. There she is.”

He was pointing but she couldn’t see. She couldn’t turn, because she could only stand stock still and _stare_ at the man, at the audacity of what he was throwing at her, at the sheer level of _nonsense_ because _how_ could he just say something like that? How could he expect her to _believe_ any of it?

“The _blood_ ,” she finally managed to say, and he just shrugged and said:

“Mine. Healing factor? Ring any bell?”

The absolute _fucker_. He just sat there, his bomb dropped, and had the nerve to look back at her like he was some saint. Like he deserved, what, _cookies_ for not killing the three-years-old, for leading Amber on in order to make him gain points? She half-expected a banner to roll from some plane, saying ‘ _Surprise! I’m not as bad as you thought_.’

“What do you want?” she stomped her feet. “A medal? Congrats on not being a child murderer?” she had the good sense to hiss those last words. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me before coming here? Oh, you wanted to shock me into a stupor, so that then I’d swoon and think you a hero?” He was clenching his jaw, and she registered the danger, but she just couldn’t stop. “You’re a good guy, is that what you’re trying to tell me? Next you’ll say you never killed anyone, all our loved ones are _safe_ –” She registered, dimly, that maybe she was in hysterics. She was pissed off and relieved and she was pissed off _because_ she was relieved, and because it couldn’t possibly be true, he was a monster and she’d held the hands and dried the tears of his victims’ relatives, and they must be all dead. Wu Ju was an anomaly, an exception – she was the tipping point.

“Make no mistake.” His whisper reeled her in more effectively than a shout or drawn claws. “I am not a ‘good guy’. I did vile things. Terrible things. I killed and tortured and maimed men and women and children. I did it because I was told to, and I did it because I liked it.” Liked it. Of course he’d liked it. He was a monster.

And behind her – if she could find it in herself to believe it – was the proof that he wasn’t just that. That it wasn’t black and white. That he’d tried.

That Kinney was right.

“But you didn’t kill her,” she murmured. He dipped his head. If she could believe it possible, he was avoiding her gaze. “Why?”

For a long while, she thought he wouldn’t answer. She thought he’d leave her there, waiting for an explanation she’d never get, cracked and doubtful and on his side. But something told her that wasn’t what he’d do, so she waited. She waited until he realized she wouldn’t let him sit this one out, until he acknowledged that he’d brought her here to that exact purpose; and then he spoke through gritted teeth. That age she knew he hid seemed to crowd into his features again, like at her house.

“Because she shouldn’t have been made to pay for her father’s mistakes. He thought her dead and that was punishment enough. Why should she actually be dead for that to work?”

Because at some point, he’d looked in the mirror and he’d despised what he saw. He’d decided to draw a line. And though it was too little, too late – it was something. And somewhere along the way, down that road – he’d stumbled upon Kinney. Or perhaps it had already begun, but this ashen man that spoke of how he _had_ liked killing people, that still killed as far as Amber knew – this man believed in Kinney’s world, in Kinney’s words too. He believed he’d been wrong. Perhaps he’d never change his way of life – no, he probably wouldn’t – but he was aware of the boundaries. Of some rules in place, rules he’d made for himself, rules he’d follow.

He was still a monster. But she saw beneath it now, and she could believe Kinney when she said they’d pay their due. That it would be enough.

That it would have to be.

Amber turned. There were many people in front of the building, but only one obviously Chinese woman in her early forties. She wore a two-piece, looked very elegant and smart and at ease; she was talking on her phone, a business-like expression on her face. She seemed focused and driven.

Amber tried to picture her as a little girl, as Biming had described her. She tried to conjure how she must have felt at being parted from her parents, at being ordered around and shoved in some bag by a stranger.

She must be a brave woman.

Amber sat down on the bench, her eyes still fixed on the woman. It was so strange, to sit beside the man who’d taken Wu Ju’s life apart; to feel his presence and wonder what he felt too, looking at his victim. He’d obviously kept tabs on her, and while it was disquieting, it spoke to Amber of – something. Something indefinite; a sort of need for accountability, maybe.

She tilted her head to steal a glance at him. What did he want then? Recognition? A witness to his self-flagellation?

“You didn’t tell us because we wouldn’t have believed you,” she tried to guess. Daken Akihiro kept staring ahead. “And you wanted me here. Why? What are you planning?”

She felt a sort of alarmed thrill. Was he going to try and make contact? He couldn’t have dragged Amber here only to make her see the woman. He must want to do something, some grand gesture to appease the dead – or the living. Himself, maybe?

He spoke so quietly, she had to lean over to hear him. “She ought to know her father died.”

Yes, she did. “Oh-kay,” Amber said slowly, “And how do you want to do that? Are you going to just walk up to her and –” He turned to look at her and her voice died in her throat. From this up close, his eyes were truly the most startling things. There were depths in there she wasn’t sure she wanted to wade in; scratch that, she was pretty sure she didn’t. What can one do, when having a close encounter with some feral beast and being forced to face the fact that their eyes are more human than one thought?

Hightail the hell out of there before the jaws close in. Before the animal comes through.

“She still has nightmares about me,” he said, as softly as before. “A bloodied monster snarling at her to shut the fuck up and keep still. She thinks I killed her parents – she saw the blood. What would you feel, Ms. Griffen, if your personal nightmare walked up to you in plain daylight?” His gaze darkened and she was pretty sure she didn’t make up that he shuddered minutely.

What would she feel? She tried to picture it as she’d done so many times before; tried to picture Laura Kinney calmly walking up to her and offering some sort of apology, some kind of half-assed explanation.

She knew what she’d do – what she’d almost done, what she’d set out to do to then fail – but she’d known about Kinney for years. This, though? Living her own life unaware, just to see Kinney suddenly in front of her, and then recognize her with dread, be seized by a crippling fear for her life – she’d probably die just from that. Anyone would.

The fact that he seemed to be able to grasp how straining it’d be filled Amber with an anger she’d thought soothed. How dare he? How could he be so considerate, after all he’d done? How could he make Amber think he was just as human as her and Henry, as Kinney, as anyone?

“What would _you_ know about personal nightmares anyway?” she whispered fiercely. “This is just – you’re only trying to assuage your own guilt, right? This isn’t about her at all, or about Biming. It’s about you.”

He just kept looking at her, not even bothering to answer, and that was maddening. How silly, how stupid of her to think that a man such as him could be reformed. If he was doing this, it was only because it benefited him; he had no regard whatsoever for his victims. He was having second thoughts and this was a handy way to relieve some of that, that was all; Kinney had made him uncomfortable, had forced him to confront some hard truths about himself, and he was seeking relief from that. This wasn’t about his victims, but about himself; he wanted to be told he was good, to perform a trick and return home patting himself on the back.

But if that had been true, Amber was forced to reconsider as their silent staring match stretched, he’d have walked up to Wu Ju himself. Instead, he’d brought Amber here – to do that for him. To avoid putting too much strain into the woman.

Or into himself, maybe.

This man beside her, this monster, this murderer – he wasn’t just that. He had layers Amber wasn’t sure she wanted to peel. And yet she had to force herself to at least acknowledge them.

He was trying. He was truly trying.

Surprisingly, he averted his gaze first, returning it – Amber presumed – to the woman. To his victim. His pretty, deceptive face was contorted by a grimace. Nothing too overt, but it was there.

Amber sighed and rubbed her eyes. She knew she was going to regret this. “You want me to do it? What should I even say?”

Daken Akihiro hummed and drummed his fingers against his thigh. He was trying – and failing – to keep his features under control, but the grimace just wouldn’t leave him. “She’ll answer to her name. She remembers it; she hears it in her dreams sometimes. You could just walk up to her –”

“How do you know so much about her dreams anyway?” she interrupted him; she didn’t really want to hear the answer, but she felt she had to.

He waved a hand. “Her therapist’s notes.” He had the good grace to look relatively guilty at that. But she couldn’t expect a villain to respect doctor-patient confidentiality. _Jesus Christ._

“Okay, I’ll just go there and say her name. And then?”

“Tell her the truth.” He stood up with one fluid motion. She couldn’t help but wondering if he was doing it just so that she couldn’t see his face anymore. “She was caught up in the crossfire; she didn’t deserve any of this.” He was rocking on his feet, his hands thrust in his pockets, and –

He reminded her – afterwards, as she recounted everything to Henry, she would awkwardly laugh at the simile, but in that moment it was so stark an impression that it startled her – of a child. A little kid trying his best to apologize sincerely, to better convey how so frightfully sorry he was.

It was that, maybe, that softened her voice. “And what about you, about _this_? What should I tell her?”

He stiffened. “Nothing. It was her father that finally found her, but death took him before they could be reunited.” His voice was hard. Amber could easily picture him gaze at the woman with some overwhelming shame on his features.

He wanted to keep being the monster in Wu Ju’s closet. He didn’t want to confound her, or to put strain in her by being both the bastard who’d taken her away and the human being who’d done that to _avoid_ killing her – a monster who’d saved her.

Amber stood up. “Okay, I’m going.” She passed him and didn’t look at him, focused on the woman still on her phone; fearing he’d read her if he looked at her.

Kinney would, indeed, have wanted him to go about it in a different way. Kinney had stripped herself bare, made herself look human; she’d stepped out of the closet to show the warmth in her eyes. She’d forced the Orphans to confront her, to confront the truth; to acknowledge that a circle of hate could only do so much and only bring more pain.

Perhaps he thought that his victims had a right to have someone to hate; but Amber knew better now. That accomplished nothing.

Someone had to extend their hand for the pain to stop.

So, no. She wouldn’t tell Wu Ju that the monster was here, mere yards away. She wouldn’t tell her what she’d seen in the monster’s eyes, because that, too, accomplished nothing. Too much, too soon; too fresh a wound.

But she’d tell Wu Ju the rest. She’d speak of the Orphans, and the pain, and Kinney’s promise, and the monster’s role in it; she’d say what the man had done.

And if Daken Akihiro killed her for not following his script, well – at least she knew she was doing the right thing.

She’d seen Kinney’s world now, and she wanted it to come true.

And he did, too, she thought decisively as she finally reached the woman, as she recognized with a pang the lines of Biming’s face on hers. He did, so he wouldn’t harm her.

He’d pout, maybe.

When Wu Ju finally finished her call, Amber took a deep breath and called her by her name.

And then she changed the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always welcome. Do tell me your thoughts! ^-^


End file.
